I Tripped
by TacticianZephine
Summary: Partially inspired by "A Child Called It", this is a peek at Prowl's tragic past. There IS abuse and suicide in this fic. DO NOT READ IF EASILY TRIGGERED! I don't want to make anyone cry from not being prepared, so I'M WARNING YOU NOW
1. Rescue

**Okay, so, I was reading "A Child Called It", and the plot bunnies just leapt at me out of nowhere. I thought: "Hmm. What if this happened to a Transformers character?" Unfortunately, I chose to pick on Prowl.**

**Poor, sad, little Prowl, whose original concept had a lisp.**

**Anyhoo, I don't own anyone whose name has appeared in a Transformers cartoon or movie. Whirlwind, Machete, and Nitroblast are little minor OCs that may or may not reappear in future fics.**

**Rated for abuse.**

**Flame on this fic, and you will make Prowl cry. And me. Don't hate the fic.**

* * *

"Bye, boys, be good while we're gone!" Whirlwind puppetted baby Bluestreak's hand in a little wave as she walked out the door.

"'Bye, Whirlwind!" Barricade called.

"See you soon, beautiful," Machete smiled.

"'Bye!" Prowl grinned, but not widely enough to showcase his missing dental plates.

The moment that Whirlwind was out the door and down the front walk, Machete turned to his stepson.

"All right, you little slag, what the frag did you call that little stunt you pulled last night?!"

Prowl didn't look at him. He hadn't been given permission, and he knew that if he so much as looked at Machete or one of the other younglings while Machete could see him, he'd be hit even harder than he already was going to be.

All he'd done the previous night was accidentally drop one of the dishes he'd been cleaning...but then, Machete _had_ told him not to break anything.

"YOU LOOK AT ME WHEN I TALK TO YOU!" Machete cuffed him 'round the side of the head.

The young mech fell back into the wall. He didn't cry out, fearing that his next blow would be worse.

"S-Sir..."

"Shut it, boy!"

Prowl's vocalizer locked. He didn't want to be hit again.

"That's better. Now, get over here."

The mechling did as he was told. After three stellarcycles of this, he knew what was coming.

*****

"Heya, Prowl! What's up?" Jazz said cheerfully as he and his parents made their way over to where the quiet youngling sat reading with Whirlwind and Bluestreak while Barricade and Machete played catch. The park was always one of Prowl's favorite haunts, but even this place didn't feel safe anymore.

"Hi."

"Whirlwind! You look well!" Chromia greeted the grey and blue femme with a squeal. "Oh, is this little Bluestreak?"

"Yeah. Isn't he precious? Looks just like his sire."

Prowl didn't look up from his manga at the mention of his stepsire, but he knew that everyone's optics flashed to him and back up.

"How's Prowl handling being a big brother?" Ironhide asked.

"Pretty well, actually. Right, sweetie?" Whirlwind rubbed the back of Prowl's head, only to encounter a dent. "What the...Prowl, what happened?"

"Fell down the back stairs," the black and white youngling said immediately, reeling off the story Machete had told him to use.

"Again? You definately inherited my coordination," Whirlwind laughed. "Sweetspark, why don't you and Jazz go play with Flareup? See? She's here with her parents."

Prowl looked, and sure enough, Flareup was laughing brightly as Wheeljack chased after her. "You wanna go, Jazz?"

"Yeah!"

"Just be careful, boys," both femmes said.

Both younglings ran off toward their friend.

"Hey Flareup!" Jazz called.

"Hi guys!" Flareup jumped down from her perch atop the slide, and was promptly swept up into Wheeljack's arms.

"Gotcha!"

"Hey! Let go!"

Jazz laughed along with the two of them, and Ratchet's low chuckling could be heard from where he was standing. Prowl smiled, because he couldn't help but think how lucky his friends were to have parents that didn't toss them around like so much garbage.

"Hey, Prowl? What's that on your face? Right over your optic?" Flareup asked, pointing to the abrasion with a frown once Wheeljack had set her down.

"I tripped."

"I thought that's how ya got this one," Jazz asked, pointing to a slash mark on Prowl's arm.

"I trip a lot, Jazz," Prowl shrugged.

*****

The white youngling picked himself up off the floor, which he knew not to do, but was doing anyway. His stepsire had yet to beat him to textbook incapacitation, and this would _not_ be the thrashing where he would do so.

"C'mere, you."

Before Prowl could react, a blue hand had seized his upper arm while its brother grabbed the back of his head, smashing his face into the wall. "I told you to keep out of sight of the guests, and _what_ did you do?"

"I only went to get a drink..." He didn't mention the fact that obnoxious, yet somehow _perfect_ Barricade had been chatting Megatron and Shockwave's audios off all night.

"YOU DISOBEYED ME, YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SCRAP!"

"Ow! I'm sorry! I won't do it again, I promise!" the mechling cried as Machete wrenched his arm into a half-Nelson.

"Damn right you won't. From now on, you're to stay in your room unless I or your mother call you, understand?!" The mech threw the younger down, and a clank sounded as Prowl's face met the floor.

"Yes, sir..." Prowl whimpered, willing the tears of pain not to fall. He wasn't about to let Machete see him break. If it hurt him this bad, it meant he was weak. It meant that Machete was right. That he was indeed a "worthless piece of scrap".

*****

Wheeljack sighed as he finished up a supply list. He was worried about one of his daughter's friends.

His mate's voice broke into his reverie, shattering his concentration on just what he thought was going on with the young mech. "What's wrong, 'Jack?"

The scientist looked over his shoulder. "I'm starting to question what goes on in Prowl's family. There is _no way_ he's so clumsy that he falls _all the time_."

Ratchet tapped his upper lip component. "You think Whirlwind's hitting him?"

"Not her. I've known her for as long as you've known Optimus. She wouldn't hurt anyone, she couldn't. But Machete...he's part of the defense forces, and I hear there've been some problems with his temper..."

"You do realize how serious these accusations are?" Ratchet arched his optic ridges. "If you're wrong..."

"Which is why I'm not saying anything until I'm sure."

The medic sighed. "I'm worried too, 'Jack. But, you know there's nothing we can do unless we're postive."

"I think maybe Nitroblast should talk to him. Just casually, ask him if something's going on. She can tell us if she suspects anything screwy going on."

"Can she?"

"Yep. If she thinks Prowl's hurting himself, or someone's hurting him, she has to report it to someone who can help the youngling more than she can."

"I just hope you know what you're doing..."

*****

Prowl sat down where the femme asked him to, and kept his optics locked on the floor. His family was out in the waiting area, and he knew that if anything slipped, and Machete found out, he'd get the thrashing of his sentient function.

"Am I in trouble?" he asked the red femme as she sat down across from him.

"Of course not. I just want to talk. My name's Nitroblast. What's yours?"

"...Prowl."

"That's a cool name. So, Prowl, can you tell me about your family? Your parents, your siblings, you know, stuff like that?"

Prowl thought for a klik before answering. "I thought you talked to Barricade. Didn't you ask him?"

"I spoke to Barricade, yes. Is Bluestreak your full brother?"

"Bluestreak has the same sire as Barricade, and the same mother as me."

"So, he's your half-brother?"

"I guess."

Nitroblast wrote something down on her notepad. "Interesting. I was the only girl in a family of six brothers. Three older, three younger. I guess it's quiet around your house, right?"

"Yes."

The red femme nodded. "How did you hurt yourself?"

Prowl arched an optic ridge. "Excuse me, Ma'am?"

"Your optic, there's a dent..."

"I ran into a door. I'm a klutz."

Nitroblast thought for a nanoklik. "Prowl, have you ever thought of running away?"

"No."

"Do you get along with your family?"

"Sure."

"No problems with your stepsire?"

The youngling shook his head.

"Does he hit you?"

"No, never."

The lie slipped out of his vocalizer smoothly, just as so many others had. Yet...this one was different. He actually felt angry with himself for telling this lie. Here was a chance, possibly the only chance he'd ever have, to tell someone what Machete was doing. And he'd blown it.

"Are you sure? He never...punishes you for something you don't remember doing?"

Prowl shook his head, and Nitroblast sighed. "Okay. We're done here."

*****  
Whirlwind looked up as she heard footsteps approaching. Prowl ran straight to her, avoiding Machete's gaze.

Nitroblast smiled as Whirlwind picked Prowl up. "Hi, I'm Nitroblast," she greeted the mature couple, nodding to Whirlwind and shaking Machete's hand. "I need to ask you two some questions. The younglings can hang out here."

"Why? Is there something wrong?"

"No, not at all, it's just standard policy."

Whirlwind set Prowl down, and she and Machete followed Nitroblast back into the office.

"I've noticed that Prowl's a bit...different. I mean, being so young, I'd've thought he'd've picked up some of Barricade's mannerisms and imitated them, but Barricade was eager, willing to talk, and Prowl...well, he wouldn't look at me, and I got the impression he was only saying what I wanted to hear."

"What're you saying?" Whirlwind asked, her silver optics glittering with confusion.

"Nothing, really, but...is Prowl at all anti-social? Withdrawn?"

"He's quiet, and he doesn't really like to play with other younglings, prefers to read. I wouldn't call him withdrawn, just shy, stoic, maybe. He's got a couple close friends. Ironhide and Chromia's son, Jazz and Wheeljack and Ratchet's daughter, Flareup," Whirlwind said.

"Mhmn. How does he behave at home?"

Whirlwind looked to Machete. "I'm usually with Bluestreak. He's of ill health, so he spends a lot of time recharging or at the doctor. And Barricade plays a lot of sports, so I usually run him to practice."

"Prowl's a klutz," Machete added. "Runs into doors, falls down stairs, drops things..."

"But he really can't help it, he's got this glitch, you see. His systems lock up, and he loses control of his behavior. The episodes aren't frequent, though, so it's not a huge problem."

Nitroblast nodded. "I see. And when he misbehaves...how do you handle that?"

"Natural consequences," Whirlwind said. "At least, that's how we'd handle it if he ever actually misbehaved on his own free will. He doesn't act out at all. He plays a little roughly with his friends, but it's just playing. It's normal."

"Is Prowl a target for bullies at all? Do Barricade's friends ever pick on him...?"

"No, why?"

A soft sigh from the red femme. "I noticed a few injuries that I severely doubt resulted from being 'a klutz'. I'm not accusing either of you of anything serious, you both seem very kind, but I think there's something going on with him."

Machete stood up suddenly. "We're done here."

*****

Prowl yelped as Machete yanked him over to the stove.

"What did you say to that headcase psychiatrist?!"

"N-Nothing."

"What did she ask you?!"

"I-If you ever hit me..."

"And you said?!"

"I...I said you didn't..."

Machete slammed the youngling's head into the front of the stove, breaking a few more dental plates. "You little liar!"

"I'm not lying...!"

That only earned Prowl another hit on the stovetop. His vision blurred, and all he tasted was Energon.

Machete let his stepson slide to the floor, limp, and left him there. He returned two kliks later with Barricade.

The blue mech picked up the black and white youngling. "Get out of the house and call your stepmother."

"And tell her what?"

A wicked smile from Machete. "That there was a fire in the kitchen." He set the unconscious mechling down on the stove top, and turned it on, bolting out the back door and racing around to the front, where Barricade was calling Whirlwind.

*****

Whirlwind transformed, plucking Bluestreak out of her passenger's seat while doing so.

She sprinted up the front walk to where her mate was talking to a firefighter. Barricade was hanging back by the playset, watching indifferently.

"Machete, where's Prowl?" the femme panicked.

Her mate's optics shuttered. "I...I don't know...I couldn't find him anywhere..."

"I need a medic in here! I got a body!" a white and green mech yelled. "Youngling mech charred all to the Pit and back!"

Whirlwind handed Bluestreak to his father and sprinted back with the EMT. She watched as he converged on the small mech.

"I got minimal life signs here!" the EMT said. "We need to get him to a clinic STAT."

"Oh, Primus," Whirlwind panicked. She fought to get closer, only to be pushed back.

"Ma'am, you'll have to back up so we can get the kid to a clinic," the mech who'd yelled for the medic said.

"That's my son!"

"Then you can follow us, but you gotta get back so we can help the kid, okay?" One of the mechs picked up Prowl and set him gingerly in the back of the medic's waiting vehicle mode.

Whirlwind transformed and followed the medic as he sped off.

*****

"His intakes are working."

"Yeah, he's drifting in and out."

Prowl's vision was blurry as he drifted back into consciousness. He was in someone's arms, being carried down a brightly lit, white hallway.

"Get him to whoever's free."

"In here."

The mechling recognized Ratchet's voice. He was sure that Ratchet would check more than the recent injuries, and feared that if the CMO found out what Machete had done, his stepsire would kill him.

The mech carrying him made a sudden left turn and set him down on a medical berth.

"What happened?"

"Kitchen fire. They found him right in front of the stove. Kid's name's Prowl."

"Yeah, I know him. He's a friend of my daughter's. Could he have accidentally--"

"No. He's too small to reach the 'on' switch. There's a serious dent here, he fell off of something right before he burned. Or as he did."

"You think he was on top of the stove?"

"I think he was put there. He's got a few dents here, and he's missing a few dental plates."

Prowl felt nothing but pain as Ratchet ran a hand over the dents on his scorched forehead. It was all he could do not to yell out.

"Can't get a response, Prowl, can you hear me?"

"Unnnnnh..."

"That's a yes. I'll stabilize him, then we'll get him to the pediatric unit."

The response slurred into senseless mush as Prowl drifted unconscious again.

*****

"Prowl?"

"Sweetie, are you online?"

The mechling's optics came back on, and he saw his mother standing over him. His stepsire and brothers, as well Jazz and his family, were present. Prowl tired to sit up, but found that he was in too much pain. "What...happened...?"

"You got caught in a kitchen fire," Ratchet added from his post by the youngling's head.

"Wh..."

"They think that Machete set you and the stove on fire...did he?" Whirlwind asked anxiously.

Prowl's optics drifted to his stepsire, and said exactly what he knew would get him out of at least one thrashing. "...N...No..."

"Don't lie to me, Prowl. Did Machete do this to you?"

Tears filled the youngling's optics as Machete's gaze locked on his face. He knew that he could be killed for telling the truth, but he didn't care anymore.

"...Yes..."

Machete snarled and pushed Whirlwind out of the way. His hands closed around his stepson's throat, and he dug his thumbs into two important neural cables. Prowl choked, unable to cycle intakes as pain overtook his systems. He felt something in his throat snap.

Ratchet and Ironhide pulled Machete off of the mechling and the black mech pinned the blue against the wall.

"Ironhide, get him out of here."

"Will do." The hulking mech dragged the blue out of the room, Barricade on their heels.

The CMO rushed to Prowl's side. "Prowl? Are you still with us?"

The black and white mechling tried to speak, but Machete's assault had ruptured his vocalizer. He clenched his fist and shuttered his optics.

"Okay. Just stay still, Prowl, I gotta talk to your mom, okay?"

Prowl managed a weak smile as Ratchet and Whirlwind left the room.

****  
"You're not taking my son from me!" Whirlwind screamed. "I'm kicking Machete out, he'll never come near my sons again!"

"I'm sorry, Whirlwind. We can't run the risk of Machete finding you and coming back to finish Prowl off. You're not usually home, there're so many opportunities for something to happen."

"No! I won't let you!"

"You'll be allowed visits, I assure you."

The grey and blue femme clutched at the infant in her arms. Bluestreak wasn't crying, but he looked intensely worried. "But what if Machete finds him where you move him?"

"We're moving him into the Autobot base, he'll be under the care of Ironhide, Chromia, Wheeljack, myself, Megatron, Optimus, and Elita One. He'll have younglings his own age around him. Jazz, Flareup, Perceptor's 'pet projects' Jolt and Blaster, and Soundwave's youngling, Rumble."

Whirlwind sighed, knowing she'd not win this battle. "I'll be allowed to see him?"

"As often as possible. And we'll be relocating you and Bluestreak as well, so Machete can't come after you. If I know anything about child abusers, they want everyone who could incrimminate them out of the way. Ironhide has a team gathering your undamaged possessions and moving them to a new place. Great neighborhood. You'll love it. Everything'll be put together by tomorrow, Wheeljack has quite an optic for interior design, and Chromia volunteered their spare room for you and Bluestreak for tonight."

A nod from the femme as she stood and turned to leave. Her optics shuttered, and she exhaled softly. "Okay. All right. Do I have to tell him, or--?"

"No. Chromia's still in with Prowl, she's ready when you re. Go on and get some recharge. Come on back in the morning. I'll tell Prowl what's going on."

"Thanks, Ratchet. I don't think I could bear to see his face when he finds out he's not going home."

*****

"Prowl? Prowl, uh, move your hand if you can hear me, huh?"

Ratchet saw the mechling's small hand clench into a fist. "Okay. I want you to twist your wrist once for yes, and twice for no, okay? Can you do that?"

Prowl's hand turned palm up, then turned back over so it was palm down.

"Okay. Uh...well...after you get better, Prowl, you won't be going home to Whirlwind. You'll be coming to live at the Autobot base. We're moving you so Machete can't ever hurt you again, okay?"

There was a hesitant twitch of the wrist this time, as though he wasn't sure that being moved would keep Machete from finding him.

"We're gonna fix your vocalizer once you go back to sleep so you can tell us what happened to you, okay? That is, if you feel like talking about it."

The hand movement was sluggish, almost lazy this time.

"Okay. I'll be back in to check on you later."

Prowl shuttered his optics and exhaled heavily. He didn't really care. Everything hurt. He could barely move, and it hurt to cycle oxygen. He'd read that burn victims sometimes lost all sense of touch, and their nervous system sensed nothing. He wasn't so lucky.

"I know it hurts. You're gonna be okay, kid."

The wounded youngling cast his optics down. He wanted to believe Ratchet, but there was a small voice in the back of his mind telling him that it was all over. That Machete had won. Had finally killed him.

His processors swirled as he drifted unconscious once more.


	2. Worthless

**I wasn't actually planning to continue this, but I got a few reviews saying they wanted to see more of this, so, more chapters will be added. I kind of want to see where this goes too. Unfortunately, due to the menace that is continuity, this fic now overlaps "All On You" during the missing week.**

**Once more, I own no one from the cannon cast, but Ember is mine, Machete is still our villain, though he's not here, ****Nitroblast was added because I thought there should be more femmes, and Manx...well, she's not important, but she happened. Beta is cannon, I've no idea from where.**

**I never quite mentioned how old the younglings are...they're the equivalent of twelve year olds, but Prowl's a lot smarter. Cosmos is, like, eleven**

**Don't ask why I had the bright idea to make Red Alert a babysitter. No wonder the kid was trying to get away, honestly.**

**Enough of my ranting, on to the fic! R&R, enjoy!**

* * *

"Did you hear about the kid Chromia and Ironhide took in?" Firestar breathed to her comrades.

"Primus, of course I did!" Manx shuttered her optics. "That poor mechling!"

"Well, Machete _did_ always have a temper," Beta scoffed.

Blackarachnia rolled her optics. "_That_'s the worst understatement I've ever heard."

Chromia heard the whispers as she passed the other femmes, but didn't acknowledge them. It had been three days since Prowl'd gotten out of the hospital, and they were just now going public about what had happened. Luckily, aside from Ironhide, Chromia, and Machete, no names were mentioned. The poor kid had been through enough.

Ironhide, too, heard casual chatter about himself and Chromia, and the recent addition to their family. But, unlike his femme, he wasn't ignoring it.

"Can we just let the kid alone for Primus' sake?! It's bad enough that his stepsire nearly killed him, he doesn't need to find out others're talkin' about him!" the black mech snapped at Blitzwing, who'd been gossiping to Sunstorm about it.

"Sorry, Captain Ironhide, it's just...I mean, Machete doesn't look like the type of mech that would..."

"Yeah, and Ratchet doesn't look like a mech who'd refrain from snapping at anyone, but he does it! So, quit talking about the kid and get on to patrol, and that's an order!"

Blitzwing and Sunstorm looked stunned, but then hurried away. Ironhide looked around the training field at all who'd frozen to see what was going on, barking orders at them.

"Lieutenant Soundwave! Get back to the firing range with Thundercracker and Skywarp. Ramjet, are those target drones ready?! I'll not tolerate slow work, now all I wanna see are afts and elbows, come on, let's MOVE!"

The training area snapped back to life as the soldiers rushed to complete their assignments.

*****

"I think it's really great what you and Ironhide are doing for Prowl," Elita told Chromia as the two of them sat in the front room of the latter's home. "He seems to be adjusting exquisitely well."

"He and Jazz have been friends for a long time." Chromia took a sip of Energon before continuing. "And he was a pretty quiet mechling to begin with."

"You're still having him talk to Nitroblast, right?"

"Yeah. He needs to talk to someone who understands to some extent what he went through, and that's just not something any of us can sympathize with. Jazz's been warned not to talk about it, and I really don't think he fully understands. If none of us do, I doubt a youngling does."

"I get it. Of course."

A clatter sounded, and the younglings appeared, playing an inpromptu game of tag through the hallways. Prowl skidded around the corner, but Jazz cut in front of him. "Ha! Gotcha! Yer it!"

"Take it outside you two!" Chromia called. "I've told you not to run in the house!"

"Sorry Mom!"

"Sorry."

The blue femme laughed quietly as the mechlings dashed out into the yard. "Honestly, though, he doesn't argue, doesn't talk back, always willing to help out..."

"This is good."

"Yeah. But, I don't think he's out of the exhaust cloud yet."

*****

_"B-But it wasn't my fault! Barricade--"_

_  
"Shut up!" The back of the big mech's hand cracked across his stepson's face._

_Prowl stumbled backward, his head hitting the wall. "But--"_

_That earned him another slap. "Don't talk back to me, youngling!"_

_The mechling stopped talking. He could only sit there and tremble in fear as his stepsire approached._

_"Now, you listen here, Prowl--"_

"Prowl? Prowl?!"

The black and white mechling jolted awake to find his best friend standing over him. Jazz's visor was bright with worry. "You okay, Prowl?"

"What? Oh. Yeah, I'm fine." Prowl sat up and drew his knees up to his chest, hugging them. "Just a bad dream, is all."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

*****

"So, Prowl, what do you want to talk about?" Nitroblast asked cheerily as she sat down in her usual spot across from him.

Prowl just fidgeted, shrugging his shoulders.

"Read any good stories lately?"

The mechling looked up at her. "I just finished one about a prince and a soldier's daughter who fall in love, but aren't supposed to be together. They sneak out every night to the gardens at the edge of the palace grounds. But, then the caretaker sees them, and tells the prince's mother and sire, who lock him up. Then, one of the palace guards, who knew about the meetings the whole time, lets the prince go and be with the femme. They run away together, and live happily ever after."

Nitroblast blinked, then chuckled, startled by Prowl's sudden willingness to talk, but at the same time happy about it. "I think I've read that story. What's it called?"

"_Forbidden Garden_?" Prowl replied tentatively.

That really took the red femme off-guard. That was an adolescent reading level novel, not something you'd find on the shelf of a mech Prowl's age. Nevertheless, she smiled widely. "Yeah, I've read that one. That's pretty impressive. Where'd you find a copy of that?"

Prowl scratched the back of his neck as though embarassed. "Chromia left it on the table in the front room, and I asked if I could read it."

"Okay. That's cool. So, do you have any other hobbies? What else do you like to do?"

"I'm pretty boring." The mechling looked around the small office.

"You're 'boring'? Does anyone tell you that?"

"No. Jazz says it's weird for a youngling to read so much. I don't think so."

"Well, good. You shouldn't care what anyone else thinks about you."

Prowl just forced a smile.

*****

"So, boys, anything exciting happen today?" Chromia asked at dinner.

Ironhide coughed. "Apparently, Shockwave's got a mate we don't know about. I'm not one for gossip, but..."

"Oh, really? Mech or femme, do you know?"

"Pretty sure it's a mech."

"Mhmn. I'll have to ask Elita about it. Jazz, how was practice?"

"Uh...well, Moonracer and Powerglide tripped over each other and caused a pileup center field."

"Were they okay?" Ironhide asked.

"Yeah, they were fine."

"Prowl, what about you, anything you want to share?" Chromia trilled cheerily.

The black and white mechling just picked at his dinner, shaking his head.

"You sure?"

A nod, golden optics meeting aqua.

"'Kay."

_I guess I really AM boring,_ Prowl sighed mentally. He and Jazz finished eating at the same time, and both went to put their plates in the sink before Jazz sat down on the couch with Ironhide to watch the news after the older mech finished his dinner, and Prowl slipped off to his and Jazz's room to read.

*****

_One Week Later_

"Yer it, Blaster!"

"Not fer long! Hah! Now yer it, Prowl!"

"For the eighth time, I'm not playing. See this?" Prowl held up the data pad. "It's called a 'data pad'. And I'm doing a little thing called 'reading'."

"Whatever. Theeeeeeeeen, _yer_ it, Em!"

The dark youngling sighed. "For the fifth time, _I_ am not playing either." She'd been here two days, and Blaster and Jazz already annoyed her.

"Geez, you two're _no_ fun!" Blaster complained.

"Says you," Ember retorted.

"C'mon, guys, let's be nice here." Jazz stepped between the two of them. He looked as though he wanted to continue, but he merely stared upward, trembling.

"Jazz, what--"

"Ember?"

The dark femmeling squeaked in surprise and whirled to face her sire. "My apologies, Sir, I did not see you there."

"Of course not. Em, Nitroblast wants to talk to you."

"Whom?"

"_She's a psychologist_," Prowl whispered. "_She's nice, don't worry. She's not going to think you're crazy. I see her every other solar cycle, in fact I'm supposed to be there soon_."

Ember nodded. "_Right_." She turned to address her sire. "Of course. When, exactly?"

"ASAP. Come on." Megatron turned to go.

"Uhm...sir?" Ember looked up at her sire, then proceeded to speak in Kaibanese, which the mechlings didn't understand. "_You know that Prowl goes to see her regularly, right? And that he has a meeting with her today?_"

"_Yes, your point?_"

"_Well, could he come with us and wait with you until Nitroblast is done with me? I hate leaving him with these two_..." She nodded toward Jazz and Blaster.

"_Fine_," the Protector acquiesed. "Come on."

Ember nodded to him, then turned to Prowl. "You heard him, come on."

*****

"So, you hang out with Ember a lot?" Nitroblast asked.

"Yeah."

"She really seems to like you. Does she know about...?"

"No. And I really hope it stays that way. I hate others feeling sorry for me."

"Don't you want anyone to care about you?"

"I never asked them to."

"Well, do you think they want to care?"

"They shouldn't feel obligated, I'm not their problem."

Nitroblast nodded. "I see."

After the mechling left, the red femme bit her lower lip component. She wasn't supposed to talk about anyone who saw her, but Prowl's negative mentality was starting to concern her.

"Well, that's why Primus allowed hypothetical cases," she said to herself as she clicked open the comm. relay on the corner of her desk.

*****

The black device on the scientist's desk chirped, and the mech answered it. "Wheeljack."

"'Jack? Nitro. Can you come down here, I need to ask you about something."

"What's malfunctioning?"

"Uh...my laptop. It's on the fritz."

"I'll be right down."

"Excellent."

*****

Wheeljack entered his sister's office. "Okay, where's the spazzy laptop?"

Closing said laptop, Nitroblast sighed. "I lied, in case there was anyone in the room with you. Was there?"

"No."

"Oh, well, my mistake. Never hurts to be sure."

"What do you want?"

Nitroblast fidgeted. "What if...hypothetically...I thought one of my patients was at risk for suicide?"

"That's pretty serious, why?"

"Well, typically, someone at risk for suicide would be withdrawn, moody, depressed, quiet..."

"Well, what would I be able to help you with?"

"Ratchet can diagnose a mental problem just as well as I can. If I have enough reason to believe this patient is in fact suicidal, I'll be calling your mate."

"Whatver'll help the poor 'bot."

"Good." Nitroblast grinned. "Since you're so willing to help, when's Ratchet off duty next? Like, on break?"

"...In about ten kliks, why?"

"Can you tell him that I need to see him? I'd do it myself, but..."

Wheeljack nodded. "Sure. No problem."

*****

_He knew that it meant a severe thrashing if he was caught, but he had to do it. Machete hadn't let him have anything to eat in so long...he'd been forced to say he wasn't hungry as he stalked to his room each night._

_Prowl sneaked a bite of whatever the family had had for dinner, and was heading back to his room when he was grabbed by the scuff of his neck._

_"Just what do you think you're doing?"_

_The mechling gulped. "Going to my room."_

_  
"Why were you up here?!"_

_"I heard a noise, and..."_

_A cuff to the side of the head. "Like the Pit you did!"_

_"I swear!"_

_"Don't you lie to me!"_

_The youngling whimpered, covering his face to protect himself from another blow. But, Machete merely dragged his stepson into the kitchen and forced him over to the sink, making him purge his tanks of what little he'd eaten._

_"I thought so. Get your little aft down to your room. Your mother will be hearing about this!"_

_Sniffling, wiping a spot of vomit from his mouth, the mechling fled as fast as possible, falling down the stairs._

Golden optics snapped open as Prowl sat bolt upright, intakes cycling heavily. He looked around, expecting to see the damp, cold basement that was once his room, with Machete standing at the top of the stairs, but he instead saw the silhouette of his best friend asleep across the room. He shuttered his optics a few times before getting up. He scaled a shelf and slipped out the window onto the moonlit patio.

He sat on the garden wall, knees drawn up to his chest, face resting against them. He was almost an adolescent, and he was crying like a protoform! What was _wrong_ with him?!

"Funny place to be at midnight," a curious female voice said from behind him.

Prowl looked over his shoulder to see glittering violet optics in the darkness, the soft blue glow of a plasma blade visible behind the femmeling's head. "Hey, Ember."

"Is something wrong, Prowl?"

"No. Why?"

"Well, usually I am the only one outside at this time, ditching my 'bodyguard', as my sire puts it, and you looked...I think the best word it 'upset', even though that does not even begin to describe your expression." The dark femmeling sat down beside her friend. "You can tell me."

"Nothing's wrong. Just a little...family issue...is all."

"You and Jazz seem to get along like brothers should, what is the matter?"

Of course. She didn't know. But could he tell her the truth? "Uh, well, it's..."

"Ember? Ember?!"

"Ember, where are you?"

"I'm so sorry, sir, I could've sworn she was in her room!"

"Red Alert?"

"I can't believe I lost her, I only looked away for a second..."

"Red Alert."

"I knew I shouldn't've left my post, only trouble could've followed."

"Red Alert."

"What if she's been kidnapped?! Gah! It's all my fault!"

"Red Alert!"

"Yes, Megatron?"

"Shut up."

"Shutting up, sir."

The femmeling's optics shuttered. "I must get back to my room before they catch me out here alone. I hope you feel better, Prowl."

_A vain hope, Ember,_ the mechling thought solemnly as the dark female disappeared. _Such vain hope._

His stepsire and stepbrother had been right. He was absolutely useless. A pointless waste of space. He would never amount to anything, ever. He didn't have any reason to continue to function.

Nothing mattered to him. Not that novel he'd been so passionately reading, not his friends or his studies. Nothing held any further value to him. He felt hollow, numb, empty...

_**Worthless.**_


	3. Just Dandy

**Okay, Chapter Three was written surprisingly fast, mostly due to the fact I'm on vacation and have otherwise no life. Our friends're a bit older now, I'd guess maybe, like, what we'd call thirteen-ish?**

**I had to add Cosmos, because I love him almost as much as Prowl. And, since in other unfinished fics, Cosmos and Em are buddies...ANYWAY, kind of deep, I got the lists out of a health textbook. Prowl seriously says "Just dandy" because my granddad influences my life profoundly.**

**I own no one! R&R! Enjoy! Chapter Four'll be out soon.**

* * *

"Cosmos, you sure ya can reach it?" Jazz asked.

"Yes. I'm--ugh--positive!" The green and yellow mech was standing on Flareup's shoulders, reaching for a throwing disk that had gotten stuck on top of the high wall around the outdoor play area. The damn thing was taller than Blaster, Cosmos, and Flareup combined, and they were all in their adolescent frames already, which were basically the body frames they were stuck with for the rest of their sentient functions made smaller. "Okay...maybe not."

"Problem?" Ember asked her fellows, arching an optic ridge. She and Prowl had wandered over the see what the heck their friends were doing.

"Yeah. We were playing catch, and Jazz--"

"Whaddya mean me?! Cosmos was the one who didn't catch it!"

"Well, he's shorter'n you, ain't he?"

Prowl rolled his optics. "Cosmos, let me get on your shoulders."

"You sure?"

"Prowler, if ya fall, ya could get hurt!" Jazz protested.

"So?" came the reply, sounding almost...bored? "Ember, give me a hand."

Jazz backed off. "Fine, but I'm not callin' anyone when ya fall on yer aft!"

The femme bit her lower lip component, but braced herself against the wall and interlocked her fingers. Prowl put one foot on her interlocked digits and kicked off with the other while Ember lifted. Luckily, the combined height between the pair of them gave Prowl just enough leverage to achieve his goal.

The black and white climbed from Ember's shoulders to the kibble on Cosmos' back, where he pulled himself up onto the green mech's shoulders.

"Can you reach the disk, Prowl?" Cosmos asked.

Prowl didn't answer, he merely reached for the toy. Once his fingers closed around the thin aluminum, he grabbed the wall with one hand while throwing the disk down with the other. That's when Blaster's knees gave out, and he, Flareup and Cosmos crashed to the ground, leaving Prowl clinging to the top of the wall.

"Prowl! Hang on! I'll get help!" Jazz said, racing off toward the group of mature 'bots.

"No t--JAZZ!" Cosmos yelled, running after him with Blaster and Flareup on his tail.

Ember looked after them, then up at Prowl, trying to figure out what to do. Sadly, she wasn't given enough time.

Prowl let go of the wall.

*****

"...fell over a hundred feet, I can't believe he's not offline, or at least more badly damaged than this," Ratchet's voice was saying. Prowl's optics flickered back online as he looked around.

He was lying on his back, and in so much pain. "What...What'd I break?" he asked.

Wheeljack looked down at him. "Surprisingly, you just cracked one doorwing. Rachet and I fixed that up easily."

The younger mech sat up slowly and looked around for the others who'd been involved in the "Wall Tower". Flareup sat beside Ratchet's foot, Blaster stood half-hidden behind Perceptor, and Cosmos was perched on Beachcomber's shoulder. Jazz was the closest, literally within an arm's reach of his friend. The only one Prowl couldn't see was Ember.

"Where's Em?" Prowl asked Jazz.

"Red Alert saw what happened, an' totally freaked out! He beat us back, grabbed Em, and took off."

Ah, good. So Ember wasn't a reliable source if she suspected anything. "Oh."

"Prowl?! Oh Primus, are you all right?" Chromia appeared out of nowhere, panicking. Ironhide followed closely.

"I'm fine, Chromia. Just fell, that's all..."

"Prowler, that wall's pretty h--mhmn!" Jazz's statement was muffled by a hand over his vocalizer.

"What?! All right, boys, we're going home, come on." Chromia grabbed Jazz's arm, leading him away, and Ironhide held out a hand to help Prowl up, but the young mech climbed swiftly to his feet on his own.

After stellarcycles of torture by Machete's hand, it had been hard-written into his processors that the touch of a mature mech would be instantly followed by pain.

*****

_The next day_

"So, Prowl, I heard you had a nasty spill yesterday," Nitroblast stated kindly, optics scanning a data pad she'd been reading since Prowl'd walked in. She would mark something on it every now and then, but elseways...

Prowl just shrugged, continuing drawing. Nitroblast had asked him if he liked to draw, he'd said he'd never had much time to, and so a datapad was placed in front of him with an art program open, and he had been asked to "draw whatever he felt like". He felt a bit stupid doing it, drawing was for younglings, but he did it anyway. It didn't really matter to him what he felt like.

"Well, are you okay?"

The mech nodded. "Yeah."

Nitroblast nodded as well, set down her data pad, and walked over to him. "So, can you explain your drawing to me?" she asked brightly, sitting down beside him.

Prowl sighed, then turned the data pad toward her. "It's pretty self-explainatory."

The psychiatrist looked the picture over, and mentally gasped.

The younger was an impeccable artist, but it wasn't any imperfections or inaccuracies in the drawing. It was what seemed to be the focal point. In the foreground was a grey, lifeless Autobot who bore an uncanny likeness to Prowl, leaking Energon from his mouth, several gashes in his armor, and around his optics. Behind him was smoke and a few scattered flames, with a shadowy figure looming overhead.

"Uh...well...that's..." Nitroblast struggled for the right thing to say.

"It's horrible, isn't it?" Prowl's optics shuttered.

"No. It's a really good drawing," the red femme reassured. "You draw very well."

Prowl tried to decipher her meaning, but he found he couldn't.

Soon, their time was up, and Prowl left. Nitroblast saved the picture to the data pad just as a timid knock sounded from behind her. She turned to see a dark young femme with violet optics and a blue ponytail blade standing in the doorway.

"Oh, Ember. How are you?"

"Just fine, Miss. Uhm...are you busy?"

"Nope. Do you need me for something?"

Ember closed the door gently. "...Can we...talk?"

Nitroblast looked stunned, but recovered quickly. "Of course. What about?"

"...Well...no doubt, you heard about the accident yesterday? Involving Prowl and a large wall?"

"Yeah, I heard about it. Why?"

"It was not an accident."

The red femme blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I would bet my spark that Prowl let go of that wall. His fingers were not slipping, there was no way he merely 'fell'. I felt I had to tell someone, but my sire would not listen, and Red Alert...well...you know Red."

"Yeah. Thanks for telling me. I definately have to keep an eye on this."

"That was all I had to say," Ember finished, getting up and exiting the room.

With a sigh, the red femme clicked open the communication relay on her desk.

*****

"Ratchet, are you alone?"

"Yeah."

"Can you come down to my office?"

The medic looked over his shoulder at the comm. relay. "Why? Full staff psych evaluation?"

"No."

"Why, then?"

A sigh from Nitroblast. "Not over an open comm., Ratchet. Just get your aft down here."

*****  
A data pad clattered onto the table in front of Ratchet. The medic picked it up and read it over.

_**Recognizing the Risks: Suicide**_

_**A mech or femme might be suicidal if he or she:  
**__Talks about committing suicide  
__Has trouble eating or recharging  
__Withdraws from social situations  
__Loses interest in hobbies, friends, etc.  
__Has attempted suicide before  
__Takes unnecessary risks  
__Is preoccupied with death and dying_

"Nitro, what's this about? Someone think I'm out to kill myself?"

"Not you. But, I've reason to belive Prowl is."

"Hang on, now. Doctor-patient privillage _clearly_--"

"I know, but if I suspect someone's hurting themself, or is going to hurt themself or someone else--"

"You and your loopholes. Okay. How many of these criteria does Prowl fit?"

"At least five, if not six. He seems tired all the time, there's your trouble recharging. I've noticed little social interaction between him and the other adolescents, withdrawing from social situations. He hasn't mentioned a single novel he's read recently, loss of intrest. The unnecessary risk was yesterday when he fell. He didn't need to be the one to go up there. And as for preoccupation with death...he drew this." Nitroblast showed Ratchet the picture Prowl had drawn. "See the doorwings? It's him."

"Primus, are you sure?"

"Positive. And, I'll not say who, but a little aerialbot told me that Prowl's 'accident' yesterday wasn't exactly an accident."

"He let go."

"Yeah. Keep reading that article. Think about Prowl's already unstable mind."

Ratchet's optics turned back down to the data pad.

_**These are some of the things they experience:  
**__Can't stop the pain  
__Can't make decisions  
__Can't see any way out  
__Can't get out of depression  
__Can't make the sadness go away  
__Can't see a future without pain  
__Can't see themselves as worthwhile_

"We need to help this kid before it's too late."

*****

_"Hurry up, Barricade. You might miss the shuttle," Machete called to __**his**__ son._

_Prowl waited outside, sitting cross-legged on the railing, waiting with his stepsire for his "perfect" older brother to get out there so they could leave. His mother was already on her way to take Bluestreak, the baby, to Day Care so she and Machete could go to work. Barricade was heading to a sports camp for a few weeks, which left Prowl at Machete's mercy._

_Barricade swaggered out the front door. He seemed to be having an issue moving his trunk._

_"Boy, go help your brother with his trunk," Machete snapped at the younger mech._

_"Yes, sir," the young one replied. He grabbed the back handle, and together, the stepbrothers lifted the luggage. It had been carried about two yards before Barricade purposely dropped the trunk on his own foot, crying out._

_"You dropped it on my foot, you idiot!" he howled at his stepbrother._

_"I-I didn't mean to, I-I'm s-sorry!" the other whimpered, having set down his own end of the trunk. He put his hands up, as though that would save him from the beating he was sure to recieve._

_Machete advanced and backhanded his stepson across the face. "You clumsy glitch!" he spat. "If it weren't for your mother, I'd gladly get rid of you. You're not good for anything but screwing up."_

A voice shook Prowl from his memories.

"You sure it's him?"

"I'd know that son of a retrorat anywhere," Prowl snarled, optics locked on Barricade.

"I know that look, Prowler. Don't do it!" Jazz warned, but Prowl didn't hear him.

Barricade was older, and much more sturdily built, made for combat, but Prowl didn't care. All he knew was that he was going to get back at the slag who'd helped Machete beat him up for most of his early life. Who'd lied to Whirlwind to cover it up so she wouldn't leave the family.

Without warning, Prowl leapt at his stepbrother, one fist striking the weak point on Barricade's neck.

The bigger mech wrestled the younger around and drove the heel of his hand into the shoulder of his assailant.

There was a crack as Prowl's shoulder was knocked out of joint. The younger's face twisted in pain, but he didn't cry out as his left arm fell limp and useless to his side.

A crowd soon grew around the mechs. Prowl dodged the bigger mech's fist before going in low for the abdomen. Barricade's knee connected with Prowl's face and the latter felt several of his dental plates break.

Spitting out mech fluid and a few bits of broken dental plates, he lunged for the other, clawed digits connecting with the firm forearm. Barricade cried out and grabbed the younger mech by the back of the neck and landed a solid punch to the left side of his face.

Prowl's vision turned to static as his left optic shattered. Golden glass hit the ground as fluids poured down the side of his face, and he tasted Energon as they trickled into his open mouth.

Onlookers shouted, femmes screamed, mechs jeered, the fighters snarled. The only thing that Prowl registered was the repetitive chant of "Fight, fight, fight."

"Boys, BOYS!" several mature 'bots yelled as they approached the scene rapidly. Two younger femmes, one dark and one lavender, sprinted over in their wake, Red Alert hot on their tails.

"Barricade!" the lavender femme yelled.

"Prowl!" the dark female screeched.

The young femmes shoved their way to the front of the crowd and broke the young mechs apart. Comet twisted Barricade into a headlock, and Ember held Prowl's right arm against his leg while wiping the Energon from his face.

"What in the PIT is going on here?" Megatron demanded.

"Ask _him_," Barricade growled, pointing to Prowl. "He started it."

"I doubt that very much, Barricade," Ironhide said.

"He _did_!"

"Not fragging likely!" Ember fumed. Then, she looked over her shoulder at her sire. "Pardon my language."

"Whatever. Barricade, you're less wounded, get your aft home."

A scornful look from the dark mech before he and Comet fled.

*****

After Ratchet fixed the young mech up, Prowl, Jazz, and Ironhide headed home. Chromia had already made dinner, after which the young mechs went to bed. After a few megacycles of tossing and turning, Prowl finally fell into recharge from sheer exhaustion.

Unfortunately, the reluctant recharge gave rise to another unwanted dream.

_The mechling knelt in the middle of the floor as he cleaned up the plates he had dropped. His stepsire stood over him, glaring down. The youngling knew that he had less then two kliks before Machete started yelling._

_Prowl was less than a hundred stellarcycles old. In any other household, if a youngling Prowl's age dropped something, the parent or parents would laugh good-naturedly, and say that accidents happened._

_  
Not Machete. No, __**Machete's**__ son __**never**__ made mistakes. Accidents were virtually non-existent. There was no such word as "oops", no, not to his perfect little Barricade. Every accident was always the fault of the youngling on the floor in front of him._

_"Whirlwind tells me she doesn't even remember your sire's name. Hmph. You were probably the product of rape, and Whirlwind kept you out of the goodness of her spark."_

_The youngling looked up at his stepsire. "We were both in an accident. She could have lost all memory of my sire."_

_Rather than waste time bending down, Machete kicked him. "I didn't ask your opinion, slag. You'll never amount to anything you little slag, now clean that up and get down in the fragging basement where you belong, ugly little freak!"_

Prowl woke up, panting and looking as he always did toward Jazz. Then, he lay back down and stared at the ceiling. Images and voices ran through his head, reminding him of his failures.

_"Glitch."_

_"You'll never amount to anything, now get out of my sight, you glitch!"_

_"Freak."_

_"There's no way a freak like you could happen on purpose!"_

_"Mistake."_

_"What did we do to deserve a glitch like you?!"_

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Prowl yelled to the darkness.

His outburst woke Jazz, who sat bolt upright. "Whowhawhenwhere?!" He turned to Prowl. "Prowler? Ev'rythin' okay?"

"What?" Prowl looked at his friend. "Sorry. Yeah. Everything's just dandy."


	4. Seclusion

**...Chapter Four. You know the drill. Yay.**

**If they've previously had a voice actor on a television show, I don't own them. Part of this chapter was inspired by the novel "Cut".**

_

* * *

_

_Prowl cried into the floor, trying not to make a sound as tears ran down his face. His arms were over his head protectively as his stepsire kicked him repeatedly, making him writhe and cry out in pain. Machete soon reached down and pulled Prowl to his feet._

_"Get up! Crying like a femme, take it like a mech!" He backhanded the mechling across the face. "And show me some respect, bastard! You haven't learned your lesson and you never will!" Machete's hands suddenly closed around his throat. He tugged him forwards viciously. "We'll do this as many times as we have to, boy. Now, SAY IT!"_

_Prowl choked, more tears bursting from his optics. "I'm a bad youngling!!" But, the words came out strangled. Machete merely grinned._

_"Say it again."_

Prowl's optics snapped open again for the sixth time. Recharge was impossible. He sighed and climbed out of bed, sneaking a peek over at Jazz, who was back in recharge.

The black and white sighed. He slipped out the window to the patio he'd come to frequent. The moonlight gleamed off of his chrome as he made his way to the familiar garden wall, wondering if he'd be left alone that night, or if Ember was dodging Red Alert again.

It soon became clear that either Red Alert had put a lock on Ember's door, or the mischevious femme had decided to behave herself as Prowl sat out in the brisk night air for several megacycles alone, and he actually questioned whether he _wanted_ the femme to show up.

*****

"So, Prowl, anything exciting happen recently?" Nitroblast inquired. She didn't seem too surprised that Prowl didn't answer, for she leaned in a bit closer, making certain her movements weren't sudden, which, she had discovered, frightened the younger. "Prowl...?"

The mech didn't look at her, he pretended to be absorbed in counting the tiles on the floor.

"Prowl, I want you to think about...whether you want to continue coming to see me." The red femme placed her hand beside Prowl's, making absolutely sure that she didn't touch him, for fear of opening an old wound in his mind. "This...you know...the two of us sitting here every solar cycle of late, with me watching you count the tiles on the walls or floor or ceiling...it's not helping you."

Prowl snuck a glance at Nitroblast, really taking in her appearance for the first time. She looked very like Flareup, he noticed. He soon returned his optics to the floor.

"And...Prowl, I think you want help. It takes a lot for someone to accept that they were being mistreated. I'm surprised you're recovering so well, actually."

_Oh, how wrong you are, Nitroblast,_ Prowl mused. He was not at all "recovering", as she had phrased it. He was still plagued by hellish memories every night, he was still terrified that Machete would find him and finish him off, he was worried and fearful for his mother and Bluestreak, because Machete might find _them_, he felt overwhelmed because of everyone's insistance that he needed help, and with the body upgrade had come new, confused feelings centered around a certain other adolescent.

His gaze shifted to his own foot, where he proceeded to count the scratches in his paint. He realized that although he'd been upgraded from his youngling body, his adolescent frame bore the old scars. _How interesting_, he thought. _I wonder why?_

"Prowl...do you hear me?"

Prowl didn't answer. He stared at the clock until Nitroblast sighed, and told him their time was up.

*****

"So, boys, anything to report?" Chromia asked brightly at dinner.

"A few of us were hanging around the park. That's it." Jazz continued to snarf down his dinner.

"Skywarp and Thundercracker're being pains in the aft again," Ironhide growled, eating viciously.

Prowl said nothing, barely picking at his dinner.

"Prowl? Anything?"

He shook his head. Then, he got up to put what little food he'd taken into a waste receptacle, and then his plate into the sink, stalking into his and Jazz's room.

*****

"I'm scared fer him," Jazz said, watching Prowl head off for his appointment with Nitroblast.

"Why?" Cosmos asked.

"Yes, for what reason?" Ember inquired.

"Well, he didn't eat nothin' at dinner last night. Maybe a bite. Hardly anythin'."

Cosmos frowned. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

"I'm not. He's not talkin', not eatin', barely comes outta our room..."

"He talks to me," Ember interjected.

"Well, yer a femme, 's diff'r'nt. You can make anyone talk to ya."

Ember rolled her optics. "You said it, not me."

*****

"Did Prowl come back from Nitroblast yet?" Ironhide asked Jazz.

"I didn' see 'im."

"'Hide? Did one of you put one of the energy blades away in the wrong place? We're missing one," Chromia called from the kitchen.

"No." Ironhide and Jazz looked at each other, then toward the kitchen. "Check again, 'Mia, I'm sure they're all there."

"No they're not!"

Then it dawned on all three of them.

*****

Prowl sighed, locking the door to his and Jazz's closet as he sat down with the energy blade and a data pad. No one knew he was even home, let alone locked in a closet and not planning to come back out online.

Nevertheless, he felt inclined to leave a note explaining why he'd done what he was about to do.

He sighed again, picking up the data pad and a writing stylus.

_Ironhide, Chromia, Jazz, or whoever finds me._

_I'm sorry I decided to leave you, but I just couldn't take it anymore. The fear, the pain, the nightmares, others feeling sorry for me, the "normal" adolescent feelings, it was just too much._

_Jazz, know that you were the best friend a mech could ask for. Ironhide and Chromia, you are both wonderful Autobots, and Jazz is lucky to have you as parents._

_Please, someone tell my mother and brother that I will always love them. I don't want to die not knowing if they knew._

_I suppose that's it. Goodbye. Oh, and Jazz? Sorry about your carpet._

Prowl wasn't quite satisfied with the note, but it would have to do.

* * *

  
**My brain stopped working here. I was listening to Loveless Wrists by Bayside and I started dancing...Er, I mean "Will Ironhide and Company find Prowl before it's too late?? Tune in next time for the next exciting chapter of 'I Tripped'!!"**


	5. Suicide

**Okay! I nicked and adapted a few lines from G1, so it's time to play "Spot the References Screaming 'Pay No Attention to the Line Behind the Curtain!'" Great game, I think you'll enjoy it. Hints: there's a bit of dialogue between Prowl and Ratchet from "Autobot Spike" shared between two characters, and a mighty Omega Supreme line from "The God Gambit" by one of the femmes.**

**Which gives me even more reason to say I own nothing.**

**Enjoy chapter five!**

* * *

"What do you mean he's not there?!" Chromia panicked into her comlink. "I already called Nitroblast, he's not with her!"

"Perceptor, I called Wheeljack already, you sure he's not with you?!" Ironhide barked into his.

"You sure?!" Jazz was addressing the dark femme in front of him. Ember had been outside with Red Alert on a walk around the courtyard, and she'd heard the panicked voices of Ironhide and Chromia after they realized that Prowl should have been home megacycles ago.

"Yes, I am positive! I walked him home after his appointment with Nitroblast. He seemed just fine...I do not know where he could be..."

"Well, he ain't here now!"

"I am well aware of this!"

"You're the only one he talks to, and you've got no clue where he is?!"

"That is correct!"

"Just like a noble. Someone disappears and it ain't your problem."

"You take that back, you are the one wasting time yelling while we could be looking for Prowl!"

"Why I oughta--"

"THAT'S ENOUGH YOU TWO!" Ironhide bellowed. "Quit bickering like sparklings and check the house. Maybe he stalked off somewhere to read."

"Y...yeah...maybe..." Jazz reasoned.

"Right. Jazz, you search the right side of the hallway, I will take the left."

"On it."

*****

Voices were screaming in his mind, reminding him of all he suffered.

His life flashed before his optics. Memories of his abuse, images of his loved ones and his tormentor, recollections of nightmares he'd had where it was Bluestreak or his mother that had been the target of Machete's rage...

Prowl exhaled softly as he held the stolen knife exactly over a major Energon vein. He was half glad he'd peeked at Ember's Health notes in Study Hall, because he had one shot to get this right.

_Now, was it lengthwise or widthwise? Damn it!_ Prowl groaned, he couldn't remember if this was the vein that wrapped around the wrist or the one that ran the full length of the arm. _I'll just go both ways._

He was poised and ready to end it all. End the hurt, the pain, the fear, the worry, the--

"Prowl?"

The black and white's head snapped up. His friend's voice? In his head?

Deciding it was just an illusion, he relocated the vein, and was about to bring down the knife when the voice called again.

"Prowl, are you in here?"

Now certain he'd be found, Prowl frantically cut a jagged, diagonal slice into his forearm, quickly repeating the action on the other.

Energon leaked copiously through the cuts, and he suddenly felt a rush of warmth through his body. After the warmth came slight dizziness, and he began to feel lightheaded.

Intakes beginning to cycle heavily, Prowl sat back against the wall, watching the light coming through the crack in the door blur out of focus before disappearing.

*****  
Ember tried to open the closet door, but to no avail.

"Jazz? Do you have a key to your closet?"

"Yeah, wh...MOVE!" Jazz frantically unlocked and opened the closet door to reveal his best friend, bleeding excessively onto the floor.

"Oh Primus...Jazz, get your parents. Now!" Ember barked, kneeling down beside Prowl and grabbing a towel off the rack behind his head to try to staunch the bleeding. "Jazz, hurry!"

The silver mech snapped out of his stupor and ran down the hall. "We found him!"

Ironhide rushed into the boys' room.

Ember, meanwhile, had calmed the bleeding but hadn't stopped it. She heard Ironhide's approach and, with slight difficulty, dragged Prowl out of the closet.

"Got him, Em?"

"Sarcasm not appreciated, Ironhide, I cannot lift him. And we need your vehicle mode...oh, I _am_ an idiot...JAZZ! Ironhide, transform. Jazz, take care of Prowl, then alert your mother. I have to call Ratchet."

"On it," the mechs said in unison as the femme darted outside. The hulking mech did as ordered. "Load him up, Jazz."

*****

"Ratchet, you need to prep for a Psych Code Delta," Ember barked into her comlink.

"Who is it?"

"No time, just prep."

She clicked her comlink closed as Ironhide appeared in vehicle mode. "I'll get him to Ratchet fast," the black mech promised, tearing out of the compound.

Ember transformed and sped after him, overtaking him easily with her speed as she sounded her siren. "I will provide an escort to get him there faster."

*****

Chromia and Jazz arrived at the Hospital in a state of total panic. They met Ember and Ironhide in the waiting area, because Hoist had literally snagged Prowl out of the back of Ironhide's vehicle mode and sprinted back down the hall. Ember was pacing frantically, while Ironhide stood nervously against one wall.

"What's the story?" Jazz asked Ember.

"Well, we have received no word on Prowl, but my father and uncle are on the way over. I did not say what happened, but they do know Prowl was hurt."

"Good."

Sure enough, the doors burst open and two mechs and a femme rushed in.

The blue and grey femme ran to Chromia. "Is Prowl okay?"

"Jazz and I just got here, we don't know."

"No news, Miss," Ember said solemnly. "However, we have not been here that long."

A whimper from the blue and grey femme as Chromia embraced her. "I'm sure he'll be okay."

Ember didn't point out that Prowl had nearly completely opened a major vein. She didn't have time. Two more femmes and five more mechs ran in.

Elita, Shockwave, Wheeljack, Perceptor, Blaster, Cosmos, and Flareup ran to the assembled seven. "What's the story?!"

"We don't know," the mature Autobots said softly.

Jazz exhaled harshly, almost startling Blaster and Flareup. "No idea."

Ember merely bit her lower lip component as she looked to Cosmos, shaking her head.

Ratchet appeared suddenly, faint oil stains on his hands. He waited patiently for someone to notice him. Ember and Megatron did, and they got everyone else's attention with what had been christened the notorious "glare you can feel through the back of your head".

Everyone turned. Whirlwind was the first to speak. "So? How bad is it?"

"We've managed to stop the bleeding, but it's not the physical damage that concerns me. It's the mental impact."

"What do you mean?" Optimus interjected.

"Didn't Em or Ironhide tell you? Prowl slit his own wrists."

Whirlwind let out a wail. "No!"

"I'm afraid so."

The blue and grey femme turned furiously to the hulking mech and the dark femme beside him. "You knew! You knew what happened and you kept it from me!"

"We were kinda tryin' to get Prowl here before he went offline!" Ironhide barked.

Ember cringed into the wall from the raised voices. It did not go unnoticed by her stepsire.

"Will you two keep it down?!" Shockwave snapped.

While the argument commenced, Ember and Jazz took the liberty of sneaking past everyone to find Prowl.

*****  
Jazz peered around the open door. "Em! In here."

"Right. I have to find Nitroblast. You stay here in case Prowl wakes up."

"What?! No way!"

"Keep it down, would you? Do not wake Prowl. Comm. me if he wakes." Ember ducked nonchalantly out of the room, slipping down the hallway to make a call. "Nitroblast? This is Ember. I need to speak with you. Please, it is urgent."

"'Course, Ember. Where am I meeting you?"

"I am at the main clinic. Meet me out back by the morgue exit, I will explain everything when you get here."

"On my way."


	6. Why?

**All right, I admit, even in my opinion, there's TOO MUCH Ember in this chapter. I'm gonna make up for it later, though. But please, don't hate on the chapter because Ember's in the spotlight at the moment. Jazz and everyone will get their turn, and Machete might make a reappearance.**

**I seriously hate this chapter, but it needed to be here because it was written so the fic could go on. If you notice, I changed a few things in the last chapter, so Ember's knowledge of who Whirlwind is has been modified.**

**R&R, I own nothing, yes that poem is in French (but it's "Kaibanese"), and Prowl has almost no part in this chapter...sorry.**

* * *

Ember navigated her way through the hallways and medical staff without being questioned; everyone assumed she was on assignment from her father. She didn't normally like being highly ranked by noble birth, but she had to admit it. Being her had its privilages.

Slipping through the morgue, she checked around for Nitroblast, transforming and idling upon not spotting her. She didn't have to wait long, however, because the red transport rounded the corner and transformed, looking around for the other.

The hoverbike transformed, and leaned back against the wall with her arms folded. "I did not know a transport could move that fast."

"Ember, what's this all about? Has something happened?"

The princess exhaled. "Prowl attempted to take his own life."

A blink from the psychologist. "I knew it was coming. And I didn't warn anyone. I blame myself."

"No one blames you, do not blame yourself. None of us saw this coming."

"I recognized the signs."

"As did I, but I hoped--"

"...that he would shake it off," the femmes finished in unison.

Nitroblast sighed, shaking her head. "I guess he couldn't."

"I concur," Ember agreed solemnly. "No one could, unless they have exquisite willpower. Which Prowl does, thus explaining our vain hope."

"I wouldn't say 'vain'..."

"I would."

*****

It was common knowledge that Jazz couldn't shut up, even alone. Yet now, he sat at his friend's side, not moving or speaking. He just watched the monitors blinking on the wall, and watched the Energon run through the line in Prowl's arm. He was thinking of what had happened.

What could possibly have driven his best friend to suicide? He had seemed to be recovering well from the torture he'd suffered, and there hadn't been any problems with anyone. Sure, he'd seemed sad, but Jazz had been told that that was to be expected. He and their friends had all been forbidden to speak to Prowl about what had been done to him. He was so sure the black and white mech was getting better.

And now it was worse. Ember hadn't known what had happened to Prowl. Now, old wounds would have to be reopened, and now they might never close.

Chromia, Whirlwind, and Ironhide slipped into the room. Nitroblast followed them, sans Ember. The mech and femmes came to a halt behind the young silver mech.

There was nothing said between any of them. Ironhide and Chromia were as worried as Jazz, but Whirlwind was boarderline hysteric. She dropped to her knees beside the berth her son lay on, crying quietly. None of them, not one conscious Cybertronian in the room, knew exactly why this had happened.

Ironhide and Chromia couldn't help but feel that they'd done something to make Prowl feel as though no one wanted him around.

Nitroblast still felt a pang of guilt that she had known that Prowl was at risk. She could have...no, she _should_ have warned someone. Anyone. Ratchet, Wheeljack, maybe. But she hadn't.

Whirlwind was devastated. She couldn't blame Machete entirely for this. If she hadn't spent more time with Bluestreak than the other younglings, she could have found out what Machete was doing. She could have stopped it. Could've run while she still had the chance. She could have prevented this. All of it.

Each of them wondered why they hadn't seen it coming.

*****  
_Pourquoi est-tu triste, mon ami?  
__Je crains pour vous, je veux tu aider  
__Est-ce vraiment si difficile de croire que nous prenons soin de tu?  
__Quel est le problème?  
__Tu peux me dire quelque chose  
__Tout ce que je veux, c'est de vous aider  
__Pourquoi est-tu triste, mon ami?_

Ember, who'd been spotted and taken home by Shockwave, was sitting in her room, rereading a poem she'd written in Kaibanese one day at the park with her friends. She'd noticed Prowl's negative mood.

_Why had Prowl tried to kill himself? Was there some secret about him that had not been revealed? Was he not getting along with his parents or brother? Come to think of it, ARE they his parents and brother?_ Ember wondered. Prowl didn't look anything like Ironhide or Chromia, while Jazz had his father's body shape.

But, then, who was the blue and grey femme from the hospital? She'd looked a bit like Chromia, so Ember had assumed she was an aunt or something. Now, she wasn't so sure.

"Well, there is only one way to find out," the dark femme said as she got to her feet to go ask her stepsire a question, hoping he knew the answer.

"Shockwave?"

The purple mech looked over his shoulder at his stepdaughter. "Yes, Emmi?"

"I have a question about a friend of mine, and I was hoping that you might know the answer?"

"What?"

Ember toed the floor. "Uhm...about Prowl...he is not Chromia and Ironhide's son, is he?"

Shockwave set down his datapad and turned around. "No, he's not. You see, Em, Prowl's stepsire...well...abused him. Nearly killed him. Ironhide and Chromia took Prowl in after he got out of hospital. His mother, Whirlwind, was at the hospital this morning."

"Why was I not told about this? I thought they trusted me."

"None of us wanted any of you younglings upset. Especially not Prowl. Everyone else was told not to speak of what had happened."

"I understand, Shockwave."

"Good. Now, don't worry yourself sick, get to bed before your sire gets home. He'll be in to say good night, I promise."

"I am not a youngling anymore, Shockwave."

"I know."

*****

"...so then he's all, 'you did NOT', and I'm like 'I went there!' And then Flareup's all 'what're you gonna do about it?' Then he goes 'who says I'm GONNA do something about it?' And--you had to be there."

Jazz really couldn't care less about Blaster's "scandalous escapades", as Ember had once sarcastically called them. It had been four solarcycles, with no change in Prowl's boarderline condition. He'd not woken up at all yet, and everyone was getting worried. They knew he was incredibly weak, and would be for quite some time, but they feared for the worse nonetheless. Each took turns keeping vigil by their friend's berthside, two at a time, each ready to alert the others if anything happened. Sometimes a mature 'bot showed up, but it was mostly just the young mechs and femmes, and the occasional nurse. Ember and Cosmos were up there while Flareup, Blaster, and Jazz hung around at the park.

"Hey, Jazzy, what's up with you?" Flareup asked concernedly.

The silver mech didn't answer, he just sat there, staring at the ground.

Everyone's comlink chirped. It was Cosmos. "We have a situation. Does everyone read me?"

"Yeah, loud and clear."'

"What's going on, Coz?"

An irritated female snarl. "The mech said 'situation', all of you. It is not difficult to comprehend!"

"I suggest you tell us what's going on up there," Jazz returned.

"Suggestion noted--and IGNORED!" Ember fumed. "Just get your afts up here stat. And that is an order!"

"Oh no, the drill sergeant voice," Flareup quipped.

"This is serious!" Cosmos pleaded.

"Cosmos is right. Talk: Excessive. Time: Limited. The situation is critical!"

The silver, orange, and purple younglings exchanged a look. "On our way."


	7. Psycho

**Chapter seven has finally arrived. I still think there's too much Ember, but she's become like Draco Malfoy, only not. She's just there. Well, she fits into the plot, but she's just _there_.**

**Transformers belong to Hasbro, Nitroblast, Machete, Ember, and Whirlwind are my characters.**

**Reviews are welcomed with open arms, but flames will be left out in the slush. You can think what you like about the story, but keep all total negativity to yourselves.**

* * *

It turned out to be nothing, a minor scare. Well, at least that was what it had dwindled down to by the time the others arrived.

"It's fine, kids. Your friends were right to warn you, you never know what might've happened," Ratchet said.

"So...it wasn't for nothing?"

"Nope. But, you never know. Am I right?"

"I guess."

Jazz huffed as Ratchet walked away, then the silver mech turned to glare at the dark femme talking animatedly to Cosmos. Ember turned when she felt optics on her.

"What, Jazz?"

The silver mech sighed. "Nothin'." He turned around to leave. He had to be home in half a megacycle.

*****

After dinner, Jazz trudged to his and Prowl's room, and sat down on his friend's berth. He sighed, running a hand over the folded blanket at the end. Then, he looked to the bookshelves, which had been pretty spare until Prowl moved in.

The few personal things Prowl actually owned were sitting on the lowest shelf. A holoscan of Whirlwind and Bluestreak, and a small stuffed plaything that his father had given him before disappearing.

Jazz looked to the still-open closet, which he'd not closed since Prowl's suicide attempt. He saw a data pad lying hidden in a corner. Moving to pick it up, he recognized Prowl's handwriting.

_Ironhide, Chromia, Jazz, or whoever finds me._

_I'm sorry I decided to leave you, but I just couldn't take it anymore. The fear, the pain, the nightmares, others feeling sorry for me, the "normal" adolescent feelings, it was just too much._

_Jazz, know that you were the best friend a mech could ask for. Ironhide and Chromia, you are both wonderful Autobots, and Jazz is lucky to have you as parents._

_Please, someone tell my mother and brother that I will always love them. I don't want to die not knowing if they knew._

"Primus. This was Prowl's suicide note," Jazz said aloud. "He really thought he was gonna die..."

*****

Ember's head jerked up as a data pad clattered down in front of her. "I was awake, honest!"

"Whatever. Read that!" Jazz said.

The dark femme picked up the data pad and scanned it. "Oh my Primus."

"I know."

"Well, that explains why he did it..."

"Yeah, and it proves that he's gonna try it again."

"Not necessarily, he could have second thoughts."

"...Em, this is _PROWL_ we're talking about. Ya can't change his mind about _ANYTHING_!"

"You really think he is that stubborn." It wasn't a question. Ember arched her optic ridges.

Jazz's visor flared. "I _think_--"

"I did not _ask_ what you thought, Jazz. I merely stated what you are implying. I actually cared what was on your mind, I would splatter it onto that wall and see for myself."

"What, are you just cranky 'cuz I woke you up?"

"No."

"Then, you got JPBATGS?"

"I have what?"

"Just Plain Being A Total Glitch Syndrome."

"Then, no, I have SKMAD."

"Say what?"

"Someone Kill Me Already Disease."

"Oh ha ha. You're just a glitch."

"No, you simply irritate me."

"I annoy you?"

"Frequently. And you do it _so_ well. Are you proud of yourself?"

"I swear, if you weren't a femme, I'd hit you so hard--"

Their comlinks chirped. Ember answered before Jazz could. "Go ahead, Cosmos."

_"Prowl's awake."_

Jazz and Ember exchanged a glance. "Good. Be there in ten."

*****

The hoverbike and cruiser entered their friend's room in precisely ten cycles. Cosmos looked up. "I'll never understand how you do that."

"Do what?"

"You know what."

"I have no idea what you mean."

"Geez, we know you two're total love units, but come on..." Jazz rolled his optics while Prowl coughed a laugh.

"Shut up," Cosmos and Ember said in unison. Then, the latter turned to Prowl, sitting down on the edge of his berth.

"So, how are you feeling?" the femme asked worriedly.

The mech coughed. "I've had better."

"Oh, I'll bet you have," Cosmos laughed.

Prowl and Ember glared at him. His personal comm. chirped, signalling that his father needed him home.

"So..." Jazz started. Prowl looked at him, watching intently.

"So what?"

Ember exhaled. "Is it not obvious, Prowl? We desire to know why you tried to..." The dark femme broke off, tears in her optics.

The mechs were a bit startled. Ember _never_ cried. Not even when she'd nearly split her cranial chamber open on the playground when they were young.

"...Kill yerself," Jazz finished for her.

It was Prowl's turn to sigh. "You won't understand."

"What would we not understand?" Ember said quietly. "Prowl, you can tell us."

"No, I can't. I can't explain, and you'll only call me stupid for thinking the way I did."

Jazz scoffed. "How can we call you stupid? Yer smarter than both of us."

Prowl's optics shuttered. "Look, I really don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"Well, we are _going_ to talk about it, Prowl. We want to help, and to help, we must be aware of the issue." Ember thought it best not to mention that she knew about Prowl's violent younglinghood.

"Em, we better leave it," Jazz sighed, knowing where the conversation was most likely headed.

"But--"

"I said leave it!"

*****

Prowl lay awake that night, just listening to the sound of the monitors on the wall behind him. He hadn't expected to wake up, he'd really hoped he wouldn't survive. But he had.

The door opened and shut quietly, and the young mech turned his head. There was no one there. It was way after visiting hours, so he expected that.

_Probably just a nurse or something checking in on me_, he thought. _Like I need it._

He went back to staring at the ceiling, thinking about the throbbing in both his forearms and the hurt weighing on his spark.

*****  
Cosmos poked his head into Prowl's room very early the next morning to discover that his friend was not alone.

Prowl was asleep, and a figure, barely an outline in the dim light, stood by his side.

It wasn't Jazz's short, sleek form, or Ember's slight, wispy figure. No, the mech was spiky, and he was BIG.

Machete looked down at the sleeping younger, the small plasma blade in his hand. If all went as planned, the black and white mech wouldn't even have time to awaken before he went offline.

Cosmos gasped. He had to do something, but what could be done? The blue mech would surely kill him, then move on to Prowl. He did the only thing he could think of.

*****

Jazz groggily pulled himself upright into a sitting position. "What, Cosmos?"

_"Get your sire. Machete is HERE!"_

"What?!"

*****

Ember, too, sleepily sat up. "Do you _know_ time it is?"

_"Em, it's Cosmos."_

She was awake now. "What is wrong?"

_"Machete's standing less than two metres away from me with a plasma blade."_

"Whom?" Playing dumb might work, given she apparently wasn't supposed to know who Machete was.

_"Prowl's stepsire. Slapped him around a lot when he was a youngling. That's why Prowl's with Chromia and Ironhide. Machete doesn't know I'm here, and he's got his optics on Prowl. Wake up SOMEONE and get here fast!"_

The dark femme jumped off her berth. "On our way."

*****

"Ironhide!" Jazz panicked as he sprinted into his parents' room.

The dark mech sat up. "What?"

"I just got a call from Cosmos. Machete's at the hospital. We gotta move."

Ironhide was on his feet in nanokliks. "Let's roll."

*****

Ember stuck her head into her sire and stepsire's room. "Shockwave?"

The purple cyclops and the silver Protector both sat up. "What?" they said in unison.

"Prowl is in immediate danger. We have to get up there **now**."

*****

Soon, five vehicles were speeding toward the clinic. A hoverbike and a small cruiser led the pack, with a transport and two jets behind them. A sixth Cybertronian, another transport, joined up with them.

"Nitroblast?" Ironhide asked. "Who tipped you off?"

"Ember."

"Figures."

"Shut up down there and gun it," Megatron growled.

*****

"Heh heh...no one to save you now, is there?" Machete advanced on the younger's sleeping form. The black and white didn't even stir. He'd obviously not sensed the larger mech's presence. "Look at you, I don't even know what the Pit your mother bothered with you for."

He raised the blade, his sharpshooter's optics locked on a main Energon line in the younger's neck. There was a flash of blue as his arm came down...

* * *

  
**Okay. Ember is seriously not such a brat, she's, like, getting Autobot PMS or something. I dunno. Maybe it's stress, and the fact that Jazz annoys her?**


	8. Star Wars

**Sorry to leave you hanging back there, but you have to admit, it piques your interest, no?**

**Business as usual, really. I don't own the Transformers, but I can claim Machete, Nitroblast, Ember, and our special guest.**

**Em has kind of a Stitch/Wolverine/Dino Thunder Power Ranger in Super Dino Mode thing going on here with her spikes...I thought she needed to be spiky. Hey, she's a girl, people won't always take her seriously in her father's defense forces. Jazz certainly doesn't. If you don't like her porcupine thing, sorry, it's who she is.**

**Other than that, enjoy!**

* * *

He lodged the blade deeply into Prowl's neck. He was sure he'd severed a few minor Energon lines, but had missed his target. The blue mech raised the blade once more, sure he would not miss.

_CLINK!_

Instead of the wet slicing of a major Energon line, Machete's blade made contact with metal. A strong, yet delicate-looking, diamond-infused alloy, to be precise.

"What the--?" He looked down, but was greeted with a punch in the face, followed by an elbow jab to the throat and then a knee to the chest. Machete collapsed backwards, but was caught by a larger entity.

Machete turned and swung blindly, trying to punch someone in the face. His fist connected with a jaw, but the victory didn't last long, for he was knocked to the ground by the same lethal, yet delicate hands that had caught him off guard before. He gripped the thin wrist and twisted, hearing a cry of pain before he was pulled backwards by a pair of much larger hands.

"Get him out of here!" Shockwave ordered.

Ironhide, Jazz, and Megatron pulled the blue mech out of the room. Ember pressed a hand to Prowl's spark chamber, then to his throat. Energon came off on her fingers. The bleeding was minimal, but still, it existed.

"Shockwave, call Ratchet. He is on duty upstairs." At her stepsire's confused look, she decided to add why she knew that. "I haunt Pediatrics from time to time between watch shifts. The younglings have come to regard me as something of a Guardian Spirit."

"That is extremely creepy, but fine." The purple mech commed the medic. _"Ratchet, we need you down here."_

Nitroblast's comm. link chirped. "Uh, I have to take this call. Back in a few."

She left as Ratchet entered. The medic shooed Shockwave and Ember from the room.

"Hey!"

"What's the idea?!"

The door shut. Ember looked at her stepsire. "It should only take a klik."

It did, and the pair re-entered the room. Prowl was unconscious once more. Ember sat down next to him while Shockwave leaned against the wall.

*****

Grunts of pain and the sound of alloy striking alloy could be heard from the alley behind the hospital. Innocent passerby could assume that some mech was getting mugged.

Close enough.

Jazz had gone home when Chromia had called, frantic, looking for him, so it was just Megatron and Ironhide. The black mech held the blue's arms behind his back as the silver mech repeatedly punched.

"Fragging--son of a--ought to deactivate you--" Megatron muttered as his fist connected with Machete's abdominal plating.

Soon, the silver Protector grew bored, and turned Machete over to the hulking, black mech. "He's all yours, Captain Ironhide."

"Yes, sir." Ironhide smiled wickedly as a cannon extended from his arm.

Machete fell to his knees. "Don't kill me! Please! Ironhide, I'm your friend, we've been fighting side by side for centuries!"

"You're no friend of mine." The mech withdrew something from a compartment on his wrist. Stasis cuffs.

"Lieutenant Colonel Machete, you are under arrest for attempted murder, assault, and crimminal maltreatment of a minor. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, and if you cannot afford one, the court will appoint one to you."

Ironhide read Machete his rights with such a venomous formality that someone who only knew the black mech by voice would've sworn that it wasn't him.

"Nice work, Captain," Megatron drawled.

"Thank you, sir...Permission to address the prisoner?"

"Not with your fists."

"Of course, sir." Ironhide turned his faceplates to Machete. "You're lucky I'll be shot if I try to kill you. You deserve to die for how you treated that boy."

*****

Nitroblast re-entered the room. Ember and Shockwave looked over at her. "You have been talking for a long time. To whom?"

"No one." She looked over her shoulder. "No one at all."

Ember arched an optic ridge. "You are not being truthful."

The door opened once more. Ember and Shockwave tensed up, heads snapping up to face the door, secretly fearing that Machete had overpowered Megatron and Ironhide, and was returning for them. The femme moved in front of her unconscious friend, the spikes on her back and down her arms and legs deploying themselves. The blades on the backs of her hands extended as well, and her face mask snapped shut over her mouth plate.

It wasn't Machete. Instead it was a mech with a youngling. The mechling was blue and red, with a similar body shape to Prowl's. The mature mech was teal with white doorwings, with a body shape like the youngling. Both had aqua optics, unlike Prowl's gold ones, yellow chevrons when Prowl's was red, and friendly, expressive faceplates. Nothing like Prowl's set, emotionless look.

Shockwave looked at his stepdaughter. "Ember, if we were in any danger, they would have advanced by now. You can disarm yourself."

"I do not lower my guard until I am sure there is no danger, Shockwave." Ember turned to regard the newcomers. "Who are you?"

The teal mech frowned. "Didn't Nitroblast tell you we were coming? I'm Stronghold, this is my son, Smokescreen."

"I'm afraid we were not forewarned," Shockwave replied.

Stronghold looked at Nitroblast. "You didn't tell them?"

"No."

"Tell us _what_?" Ember was beginning to lose her patience. She didn't retract her back spikes or her claws.

Stronghold looked at her. "I'm Prowl's sire."

* * *

  
**And the plot thickens.**


	9. Recovery

**Last real "story" chapter. It may or may not be a happy ending, but does life actually have storybook endings? I didn't think so.**

**Yay!**

**I don't own anyone except Em...and Machete...and Stronghold...and Nitroblast...and Whirlwind...ANYWAY!!!**

Enjoy!

* * *

"I was part of the defense forces stellarcycles ago. My rank was corporal. My most prized possessions were holoscans of Whirlwind and Prowl. I was taken captive on Quintessa, but everyone assumed I was dead. When I returned, I read about the shuttle crash that cost Whirlwind most of her memories, it was still in the headlines, and when I showed up at her door, she wouldn't see me. She didn't remember who I was. I knew Prowl wouldn't remember me, so..."

"And you didn't come forward when you heard?" Shockwave asked.

"I didn't hear. I've been in Crystal City, working with a geology team. I met a femme, we had Smokescreen here, moved back out here." Stronghold sighed, looking down at Prowl. "I feel terrible for not doing anything sooner."

"It is not your fault," Ember reasoned. She had sheathed her weapons and was sitting on the edge of Prowl's berth. "Most mechs would not want to seem like a creeper or appear to be stalking someone, even if it was someone they had a relationship with."

"Yeah, well, I still feel like it's my fault."

"We all felt that way. Em and I felt like we knew what was going to happen to him, but we didn't step up. Ironhide and Chromia feel like they did something wrong..." Nitroblast shrugged sadly.

Stronghold sighed. "This really isn't how I wanted Smokescreen to meet his big brother," he witted.

Everyone chuckled.

Shockwave looked up when a pink femme entered. "Hello, Elita."

The assembly looked up. Elita One waved. "I just came by to check on Prowl. My brother-in-law tells me that a certain someone hasn't been recharging because they've been here, keeping an optic on him."

Shockwave looked at his stepdaughter. "You haven't been recharging?"

"Of course I have."

He could tell she was lying. "Go home. Get some recharge."

Ember glared at him for a moment, but then left quietly.

*****

The bell rang, signalling the end of History class. Ember and Jazz gathered their things, and started to head out at the back of the group.

"Ember!" Kup called gruffly.

The femme turned. "Yes, sir?"

"You're wanted in the nurse. Now."

"Why?"

"Like they actually told me? Go!"

The dark femme looked at Jazz, then nodded for him to get to Chemistry. She headed to the nurse, poking her head into the Quantum Physics classroom to tell the instructor where she needed to be.

She spotted the nurse in the hall. "Oh, I was just coming to see you."

The pale blue femme nodded. "I know. Ember, there've been some concerns among your teachers as to the fact that you seem...distracted, tired...and low on energy. Have you been recharging enough lately?"

"Yes, of course."

"Are you sure? Do you feel sick?"

"No, Ma'am."

The nurse ran scan on her. "Your energy levels are so low..."

Ember was about to answer when she crashed.

*****

Jazz tried to see over the crowd. He decided to get the scoop from Blaster. _"What's goin' on?"_

_"Megatron's up there. Em crashed or something."_

_"She okay?"_

_"I dunno."_

The silver mech shoved his way to the front. He saw the silver Protector picking up his daughter and carrying her out. The nurse followed, chattering that the femme had collapsed from exhaustion.

"...apparently hasn't been recharging..."

Jazz couldn't believe it. He looked at Ember. _You stupid gltich._

*****

Ember woke up in her own room. She blinked her optics tiredly, and looked around.

Her sire was standing over her. "Half a megacycle. Most recharge you've gotten in a quartex, am I right?" The femme tried to get up, only to have Megatron lay her back down. "No. You need rest. I'll not have you collapsing again."

"I am perfectly fine."

"Em..."

The icy glare was enough to make her lay back down. "But, I have homework...I need to find out what I--"

"Taken care of." Megatron looked over his shoulder. "Cosmos?"

The green mech appeared. "Hey, Em."

Ember waved absently, glaring at her sire.

*****

"Hey Prowler," Jazz said as he, Blaster and Flareup entered their friend's room.

"Hi." Prowl, who was trying to keep up with his schoolwork, waved. Then, he looked up, noticing two abscences.

"Where're Em and Cosmos?"

Everyone exchanged a glance. "Em passed out in school today. Cosmos's home with her," Flareup explained.

Prowl shook his head. "That nut."

"Yeah, well, y'know how Emmi can be."

"So...how is everyone?"

Jazz shrugged. "Same old."

The four of them sat chattering for about a megacycle before Jazz had to leave for dinner.

*****

"So, you went to visit Prowl today?" Ironhide asked.

"Yeah. He's doin' pretty well," Jazz smiled. "I think he's really gettin' better."

Chromia smiled too. "That's fabulous."

"Yeah."

"How's everyone holding up?" Ironhide pressed.

Jazz looked at him. "Flareup an' Blaster're holdin' up great. It's gettin' ta Cosmos. Em's paranoid, so she's pretty much killin' herself."

"Mhmn. There's something wrong with that femme."

"Now, Ironhide, don't talk about her like that, she's a perfectly lovely young lady." Chromia brandished a spoon at her mate, and turned to their son. "And you, Jazz? How do you feel about all this?"

The silver mech shrugged. "I dunno...I'm a little scared fer him, I guess. I mean, after ev'rythin', who wouldn't be? I'm kinda mad at him a bit, too, an' I feel bad about that. He knew that if it didn' work, all o' us were gonna worry about him."

"Well, I'm sure he wasn't thinking straight. He'd been through a lot."

Jazz frowned. "Yeah. I guess."

*****

"I don't believe you, Em. If I were still recovering, you'd've killed yourself, wouldn't you?"

Ember rolled her optics. She and Cosmos had been going to see Prowl when they met him and Stronghold outside the hospital. Cosmos had been introduced before Prowl began chewing Ember out. "Prowl, can I help that I am just overly-paranoid?"

"Yes."

Prowl shook his head. "Point is, I'm fine now, I'm going home with my real sire, and hopefully, my life will now be normal rather than a living Pit."

"With Jazz around, there's no such thing as normal," Cosmos added. Ember high-fived him. All three laughed.

Once they'd calmed down, Prowl's faceplates turned serious. "I'm serious, Em, quit being a late-nighting anorexic, or I will hunt you down."

A scoff. "Yes, your majesty."

*****

"We are here because...?" Ember waited for an excuse from her father. She, Prowl, Jazz, and Cosmos had been forced to attend Machete's trial. Nitroblast was on standby, in case something happened.

"Because Prowl was called as a witness, obviously, as was Jazz."

"Which does not explain Cosmos' and my presence here."

"Moral support," Megatron muttered.

Ember rolled her optics for the fifth time in a megacycle. "Whatever."

The trial commenced normally, until Prowl was called to the stand.

It was about the fourteenth question, and Ember and Jazz could see tears on the rim of their friend's optics. The prosecutor stood directly in front of Prowl. "And did your stepsire ever actually try to kill you?"

Prowl cycled a shuddering intake, and nodded. "Y-Yes. The incident that caused my...removal...from my mother's care...was the closest he'd ever come to killing me."

"Can you recount the incident?"

Another shiver from the young mech. "...He...hit my head on the top of our stove a few times...then...I don't really...remember much before...I woke up in the hospital. They said Machete'd burned me...on our stove. I somehow...knew it was him...and when I told my mother...Machete tried to choke me."

"That never happened!" Machete thundered, and he leapt over the divider and made a beeline for the younger.

Ironhide was between them in moments, knocking Machete sideways with a right hook, being careful not to critically injure him. He continued viciously punching the blue mech until four burly soldiers broke up the brawl. The black mech glared at the blue until Chromia came up and seized his arm, pulling him back to his seat.

Prowl, having risen to his feet, now absolutely petrified, stood frozen, optics locked on Machete. After three kliks of not being able to get a response, the judge had Nitroblast remove the young mech from the room.

*****  
Stronghold opened the door. "Oh, what can I do for you three?"

Cosmos looked at Jazz, then at Ember, whose faceplates were contorted into a smile. "Is Prowl home?"

"Yes he is, come right on in."

The trio followed Stronghold into the living room, where they were invited to sit down. The mechs did so, but Ember remained standing. Stronghold walked to the bottom of the stairs and called Prowl down.

Prowl saw his friends in the living room and smiled. "Hey. How'd it go after I left?"

The green and and the dark femme exchanged a look before looking at Jazz, who walked solemnly up to Prowl and stared into his optics with a sad look on his faceplates. The black and white blinked for a moment, sure that Machete had gotten off...

...before Jazz smiled and hugged his friend. "We won, mech!" Prowl, surprised by the hug, stiffened, shying away from the contact. Jazz sensed this, and let go. "Sorry."

The black and white's faceplates remained unreadable as he and Jazz touched knuckles. Prowl did the same for Cosmos, but wasn't qute sure how Ember would react. She held open her arms, silently asking for permission to hug him.

Hesitantly, Prowl nodded, and Ember threw her arms around his neck and, without warning, kissed him on the cheekplate. After realizing what had happened, she pulled back, embarassed.

Prowl stood stunned for a moment while Jazz and Cosmos snickered. Had she just...?

Ember's comlink chirped. She answered in Kaibanese, so it was obviously her father. _"Allo?...Oui, Sire, je suis avec _Jazz, Prowl, _et_ Cosmos..._Non, nous ne sommes pas a la bibliotheque, qui dit vous ca?...Oui, je vais __obtenir le diner...D'accord....D'accord...Je vous aime aussi. Au revior."_ She looked at the mechs. "I, er, I have to go."

She ducked outside and transformed, speeding off. Jazz looked at Prowl. "She likes you."


	10. Finale

**This is it! Chapter Ten has been posted. I'm a bit sad to see this end, but hey, this is why we have sequels for things!!**

**Thought I'd have a character narrate this one. R&R!**

* * *

So there you have it. Life was pretty normal after that. Well, as normal as things can get with Jazz around. I stayed with my sire, with regular visits from my mother after Ratchet informed her of Stronghold's identity. And when I moved out, I actually think my stepmother was sad to see me go.

I tried to stay as connected as possible to my family, but we eventually fell out of touch. I didn't hear from any of them until Stronghold's death in a lab accident half a century later. Optimus became something of a mentor and a close friend to me. I reported to him for training for several stellarcycles before joining the Defense Forces.

All in all, life really turned out...well...normal. My visits with Nitroblast became less and less frequent after awhile, although I did attempt suicide once more after I heard that Machete had been paroled "for good behavior". Cosmos found me that time. I was hospitalized for about a quartex, with Jazz and Ember chewing me out for not sticking to my medication for the lingering depression. A mistake I don't intend to make again.

Jazz still considers himself the normal one, but I've never quite agreed with this. He and Blaster were always the athletic ones, and they spent most of their time at practice, which was mostly considered "normal" in Jazz's family. Ironhide was on some team, and Chromia was a cheerleader.

Ember was hospitalized from not refuelling for about a decacycle before our official acceptance into the Cybertron War Academy. It turned out she was also depressed about family problems, and that she'd been cutting herself. She was institutionalized for a couple of stellarcycles until she had recovered enough to continue with a normal life. She takes the same medication I do, just in a stronger dose.

When the factions split, Red Alert, Jazz, Blaster and I all defected to Optimus' side without hesitation. Ironhide later joined, after Optimus had promoted Jazz to Head of Special Operations, Red Alert to Head of Security, and Blaster to Head of Communications. I'd been somehow made Second-In-Command, and Optimus' tactician. Cosmos and Flareup had been part of the science division already, and Smokescreen and Bluestreak became part of Special Operations. It took awhile before Ember finally joined, and she filled the vacant spot of Head of Intelligence, where she gained Cosmos as something of a second-in-command. She was later critically wounded in battle, and when we escaped on the _Ark_, she was put into medical stasis (which, as I understand, is similar to what the humans call a "drug-induced coma".) This is why the "office staff" do not get assigned to missions that involved heavy weaponry, as Red Alert, Ratchet and I have stressed numerous times. Not long after she woke up, we were all separated. Intelligence, Security, Special Operations, Communications, Weapons Development, Science, Medical, Elita One's Division, central command...we were all almost completely dispersed. Ratchet, Jazz, Ironhide, and Bumblebee remained with Optimus Prime, and you know the rest from there, I'm sure.

As you've no doubt realized, we are now stationed on Earth with Optimus. A few of us are still missing old friends that we've not heard from.


End file.
